I Was A Bad Person Once
by Epiphany Under Moonlight
Summary: Sorry doesn't make it better. Pretending doesn't erase the past. You did something wrong, something seriously wrong, you hurt so many people...even killed some of them. It can't just be forgotten, won't just be forgiven. You have to repent or be damned.
1. Dwai

**Author's Note: Wow, this is my first story after being off this site for…well forever actually. It's been a while. I may be rusty and I apologize now if things are a little off. I have a thing for OC's, something about seeing an existing circumstance through new eyes. Hopefully you guys like it and find something good from it. Please read and review!**

He didn't belong there.

It was the first thought that ran through her mind as she looked at him from her protective spot against the wall.

Mental hospitals were not happy places. The people were not models or actors, there were no quirky jokes told over the pleasing hum of indie music. They were cold forever clammy places filled with an air of desolation that the sea foam green paint on the walls only emphasized. They drained you and left a dark eyed husk that could only stand waiting, mouth opening and closing, swallowing medicine robotically.

He didn't belong here.

Her eyes narrowed as she tapped a finger against her arm in annoyance.

He was too tanned. Too well-built. Too good looking.

Dusk-soaked caramel skin that had been baked by the sun practically glowed in the stark expanse of the room, dirty blond hair that had been bleached to platinum stuck out sharply against the dim 'mood' lights. And his smile...

"Malik Ishtar", the director announced him, a firm hand on his shoulder and a smile so caring it looked like it had been transplanted from a sympathy card.

She tilted her head eyes critically studying him.

_Malik Ishtar_ she mentally repeated. Malik Ishtar looked like he belonged in an ad for suntan lotion or a free vacation to Maui...maybe even an escort service. Malik Ishtar did not look like he belonged here.

Not with them.

She took a deep breath folding her arms over her chest. She hated Barbie's. The nearly perfect people who's overprotective families sent their little darlings for nothing more than an escape from personal responsibility, because they had the money and luxury to do it on whim, because the littlest problems deserved the most extreme reaction.

So what did he have...an eating disorder?

Her eyes skimmed over his taut body. ...no, despite the potato sack fit of the uniform she could still see he was muscled and thin underneath, slender but healthy.

...sexual issues?

She paused at his eyes; bright pools of violet filled with joy as she amended her earlier thought and ran her tongue over her teeth. ...maybe. He wasn't crazy enough to be here...but still just a little off. She couldn't deny that.

It was in his smile, in his eyes. A little too wide. A little too bright. With a big grin bordering on unstable and a flickering of light in his eyes like the frantic ballet of a firefly rather than a steady beam. Just a little...

"Hi!" his voice surprised her too caught up in her own reverie. He sounded so friendly as he addressed the room of other patients.

...

The response was less than enthusiastic; most of the people sitting in folding chairs were too busy caught up in their own psychosis to give him any attention. She scanned the crowd, she hadn't expected more. The girl with the stuffed animal offered a shy smile before looking down to her feet quickly, the boy wringing his hands and muttering to himself had a beefy attendant planted firmly at his side in case he got too 'excited', and the others? Merely slumped over the very robots she had become used to seeing, of course that only accounted for those who weren't temporarily confined to their rooms for one reason or another.

"Well Malik, everyone here is so happy to see you." the director said in that smooth comforting voice that completely disregarded reality. She rolled her eyes.

Half the people here didn't even know he was in the room.

Still, at least he wasn't stupid enough to believe that, she could give him credit for that much. His smile dissipated as he looked around the room tracing over the contents of everyone there before his eyes settled on her and the light in his eyes appeared again.

_Shit_

"Well Malik, I am sure you will be an excellent addition to our community.", the director said dismissively as she cocked her head signaling to the guards to begin to round up the unresponsives and fold up the chairs. He nodded eagerly already moving to the tips of his toes ready to rush from her control as soon as she released him. A simple uncurling of a hand was all the permission he needed.

"Hello!" Malik called out as he moved quickly towards her.

Her eyes widened slightly and she turned wasting no time in abandoning the group of loonies and walking back towards her room arms tightly wrapped around her.

"My name is Malik!" he offered as he caught up now matching her pace even as she tried to speed up again.

Unfortunately Malik was fast and matched her pace so effortlessly. "I heard." the response was dry as she turned the corner heading back towards her room. Despite her coldness he followed dutifully scanning all the walls with eyes that seemed to be recording everything. "...What's your name?" he asked after a moment turning to face her again and she frowned. "Don't worry about it.", curt and simple.

If he had any concept of human emotions he'd get the drift and leave her alone

"Don't worry about it...that's a funny name." it was an effort at a joke and she shut her eyes briefly as she spied the door to her room.

"Don't worry about it...", she whisked inside surprised by the sudden feeling of relief which filled her as he stood outside the threshold bouncing on his toes, arms folded behind his back.

"Can I call you Dwai for short?" he wanted some confirmation of camaraderie, latching onto the first person to give him any attention even if it was as little as a glance. She had seen it happen many times before to patients who needed something safe to comfort themselves with because of the unfamiliarity of their new surroundings. She stood inside her sanctuary eyes narrowed before speaking.

"No."

She slowly swung her door shut knowing nothing brought unwelcome attention faster than the sound of a door slamming.

He stood outside, bright smiles and totally out place.

"Bye Dwai." he replied and his wide grin was the last thing she saw as she closed the door in his face.


	2. No

Lies

Lies

Lies

A strange warbling filled her ears as she felt the sensation like the buzzing of summer bees around her, she shook her head slightly unable to look away from the blank page as her eyes roamed back and forth.

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Lies

Familyoffourvictimsto, hotsohot hot, hot and she couldn't breathe and

It wasn't right

Nothing, nothing, nothing here

Familyoffourvictims to -

"Are you listening to me dear?" a hand settled on her shoulder and she suppressed a shudder as she looked up at the therapeutic art director who was smiling down so pleasantly.

She had only picked up on every other word the woman had said but she smiled and nodded earning approval as the therapeutic art director swept past her heading around the room cyclically like a dancing marionette. "Now, examine yourself. Think about yourself; think about your feelings and what exists deep within you. Don't be afraid to commit it to the canvas and...feel." she emphasized. She looked at the woman. She was a tall thin female, with curly blonde hair just beginning to show wisps of white age, tugged up in a ponytail she graced around them. Face showing an age that hid somewhere between a depressed thirty and an exuberant 50. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Her maxi dress was a deep brown that did not reveal its cost or weathered nature, around her neck was a low hanging gem that had rings like a tree swimming out from a tawny yellow to a deep wood. "See everything, examine everything, don't be afraid to really take each piece apart and really catalogue it.", she clasped her hands together as she smiled at them, slight lines around her eyes emphasizing her withering while her eyes sparked like the sun hitting dew droplets on leaves. She looked happy. She looked supportive. She looked calm. Even as she walked amongst all this madness and human oddity she looked at peace.

She couldn't decide whether she liked her or not.

She put down her paint brush and sighed.

Art therapy.

Diary keeping.

Group therapy.

Hypnosis.

She shook her head, all that effort and it didn't seem like any of them were any healthier than they had ever been. "Very good Samantha!" she heard the enthused congratulations as the girl with the orange bob bowed her head a pleased smile attempting to find refuge in her shirt. She arched an eyebrow and looked around the room. Some of the others were listlessly swirling their paint brushes on paper, the others eagerly trying to uncover the source of their deficiency, rubbing bristle furiously on paper as if they were sweeping away the frost which hid their secrets. One did not pick up his brush at all staring at the page but never really seeing it.

She sighed. She had been here too many times before. Seen this same play to the point where the mechanics of the background held more interest than any of the major characters. She wondered whether the art director was really happy with her job. Whether when she slipped on her maxi dress and pulled her hair into that ponytail she had regrets on her chosen career. Whether she had a man in her life or somehow in the course of career and determination a mate had slipped through her fingers. House or an apartment. She turned lifting her hands to emphasize a point and she wondered whether those hands wiped away tears or failed to shield her laughter in the company of her closest friends.

Ugh.

She looked up at the ceiling trying to keep from groaning aloud as she closed her eyes sighing deeply. "Fascinating Malik." she heard her breath and she turned her head. The tone was a little bit different, a little bit more earnest than she was used to and she saw her standing next to him. Instantly her lips twisted into a frown. That weirdo. "Now what do we have here?" she asked gesturing to a corner where a bright flash of gold which shone through darkness and what appeared to be weathered stone. He considered it for a moment before speaking.

"Home.", he said finally as the woman nodded tapping her finger against her chin. "Fascinating.", she said again and turned to him. "Now try and figure out what you mean by that."

He frowned as he watched her walk away. "What do you mean...its home..." he trailed off before he could finish his sentence and then shook his head. She studied the puzzled look on his face and watched as it transformed to something of mild annoyance. He glanced around the room and in a moment their eyes locked as he smiled and lifted his hand waving to her. She quickly looked down pretending to be working even as an attendant stepped into the room and motioned to the art director that her time was over.

"Well, okay everyone." she said clapping her hands together as she looked around the room. "I think we've made some great progress today." Liar. "Hold onto the feelings you've uncovered today and I'll see you again next Monday." she waved smiling at them warmly. She leaned forward soundlessly smacking her head against the canvas. God...someone save her from this bullshit.

She stood up shaking her head as she headed towards the attendant where they were supposed to line up and leave their 'important' discoveries behind. She got in line folding her hands over her chest and instantly got a sharp look from another attendant. "For fuck's sake." she muttered under her breath dropping her hands. "Hands at your side, open palms, you know it.", he said steely eyes glaring at her as she casually looked him up and down. Brawny and tall, she could see the muscles beneath his shirt pressed tightly against the material of his uniform. Oh yes...all 100 of her lbs. would be so deadly to him. She took in a deep breath. "Sorry yeah."

"Hi Dwai." she heard a cheerful voice behind her and looked over her shoulder as she saw Malik standing there. "No." "What was your painting of?' he asked as if he hadn't heard her. "No.", she said again shaking her head and looking around for refuge from the new loony. "That lady...she said paint something that had meaning, something that was deep inside ourselves...and I did and then she - ", he made a face demonstrating how bizarre he thought she was. She turned around pointing straight at him.

"Let me help you with something Malik. This thing you're trying to create...no.", she said again emphasizing the single word as his eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?" She stared at him blankly for a moment. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to hang out with you, and I don't want to be your friend...no", she said annoyed. His jaw dropped slightly. "I was just -" "Yeah, I know...don't."

"No talking, all patients facing the front.", the guard who had called her earlier said deeply and she turned slowly ignoring his gaze on her as he quickly scanned the line and then nodded waving to another guard who slowly opened the door as they were allowed to shuffle out. As soon as she broke the boundary of the room she marched out putting as much space between her and Malik as possible.

...

Slowly she swirled her spoon around the mashed potatoes as she washed the fluffy white yield and bend almost ignoring what she did because it looked exactly the same no matter what her spoon did. "Ugh...this can't be good for my mental state...its like the potatoes are testing me." "Did you pass?" a voice asked as she heard the soft clatter of a tray on the table and looked up to see Malik smiling at her. "Didn't I tell you not to talk to me?" she demanded.

"Yeah...and I would but...you're the only person who actually...talks." he said sheepishly and she nodded as she pushed the peas around her plate. "Yeah...I've noticed that." "So did you pass?" he asked curiously and she frowned at him. "Pass what?" suspicion wrapped around the question and she abandoned the mashed potatoes with disgust. "Drawing our minds, painting our...existence." he breathed mocking the voice of the Art Director. "I mean...I figured that was a test...separate the dangerous loonies from the non-dangerous ones."

She chose to ignore him annoyance pricking at the edges of her consciousness.

"So...what are you here for?" he asked curiously.

"I ask myself that every day." a sigh.

"So what are you here for?" she asked glancing up at him.

He turned his head and for a moment he seemed more concrete, less of an idol or some tragic playboy and merely human. "Hmmm.", he sounded out eyes focusing on the gleam of sunlight bouncing off the floor. He waited so long she assumed he wasn't going to tell her and she carefully poked the chicken which was a bit on the gray side but did smell good. "They said..." he began and she slid a piece into her mouth chewing slowly.

Eh...not bad.

"They said I killed my Father.", and he looked straight at her then, his lavender eyes reflecting a light from within.

She held her breath.

And then he smiled.


	3. Confess

Okay so...sorry for the long delay, lol. Sadly, or wonderfully if you're a really positive person, this is the best schedule I've ever been on with my fan fiction. This chapter was a little tricky, getting all the points across – doing everything properly yadda yadda, but I do hope I did a good job and am slowly but surely exploring this storyline.

The segment in italics is a flashback to an earlier scene, it'll all make sense as you're reading (or...I hope it will anyway). So…thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy .

* * *

She stared at him for a long time.

She'd heard some gruesome stories in her time here, things that made stomachs turn and bodies shudder. Over the years she'd learned to ignore most of it, adopt the same cool demeanor the doctors maintained.

She'd also learned something else.

Sometimes, when human beings found themselves trapped in a cage of fake smiles and medication the only thing left for them to do was lie.

She'd heard countless lies.

You never knew how much shit people could be full of till their every hour was devoted to looking inside themselves.

Her eyes narrowed refusing to break contact with his even as a certain gentleness entered his expression.

"...You're lying." she said finally, though she wasn't entirely sure about her claim. Usually she could read people clearly, but there was something different about him, hard to uncover his truth with the shadows in his eyes.

"No...I'm not." he shook his head and in that moment he looked...sad. She felt a wave of discomfort move over her and glanced away. "You really killed your Father?" she asked slowly, her mind beginning to turn over this new piece of information. He nodded never looking away. She pushed away from the table reaching for her tray.

"If you did that Malik...then you deserve to be here."

Violet eyes widened suddenly and she turned, holding her breath as she walked away.

He freaked her out.

New patients were often the weirdest in spite of where they all now called home.

But in that moment she felt like the tenuous grip she had on reality had slipped and something had changed. Gone was the playboy who had walked through the doors of the mental hospital or the human who had confessed to murdering his Father.

Now there was a ghost.

Pale, not entirely there, as if her statement had knocked away an illusion to reveal a very frail reality.

* * *

"What would you like to share with me today Malik?" a warm voice filtered around the edges of awareness as his eyes slowly roamed around the room. The walls were dark green here, a rich hunter color punctuated with hints of lush velvet red. "Malik?" So they knew luxury, knew that the soothing greens and muted blues they subjected the patients to were so empty.

"Malik."

He traced his gaze back down to the source of the voice to see the doctor staring at him, smiling so gently. "This is an excellent opportunity to share with me how you're adjusting to your time here...what you've learned in these past few days."

Her voice was so soothing.

Lulling.

It reminded him of a hypnotist he had met once.

She shifted in her chair slightly and he could hear the smooth sound of leather. It was a nice office...very nice. Not the best by any measure, but by the rest of the hospital it was obviously the pinnacle. "So nothing to say this week." she said, her voice a pitch lower.

He tilted his head.

Could others hear it?

The subtle change, the disapproval she was attempting to mask.

She wasn't such a good liar.

He glanced down watching as her pen moved towards a notebook resting in front of her.

"When will my sister be visiting?"

The response stilled the pen's movement and she looked at him cautiously from the top of her glasses. "Do you miss your sister?"

Not an answer.

He considered it. Did he miss Isis?

She waited folding her hands. He sucked in his breath trying to control it but the sound was still audible as his eyes narrowed

"No."

"Hmmm.", she put down her pen and he knew he had given her what she wanted.

A confession.

"And why is that?" his eyes roamed back and forth over her desk. There were no pictures. Diplomas on the walls and plants in the corners but no traces of a home life separate from this job. His eyes flitted to the hand that was resting on her desk. Wedding ring...and under her makeup he could see the wear around her eyes. She had kids.

But she didn't want anyone on the other side of this desk to know that.

Interesting.

"Sometimes I'm not sure about Isis." he said thoughtfully.

She tilted her head, eyes speculative. "Don't you think Isis has your best interest at heart?"

He stared into those complex brown pools and smiled slowly as his lips parted.

* * *

She stepped into her room moving just a few steps forward before she stopped sensing something was wrong.

Eyes focused as she saw a white square of paper resting on top of her pillow. She stepped backward until her body was flat against the closed door and her eyes roamed around the small space. She'd had people in her room before; security did checks whenever they suspected something. Routine checks that reminded her there was no privacy in this world. But they had always been obvious, treated her room like a hallway to be tracked through, disregarding everything in their quest.

This time...the room was serene, no change of anything outside of the note.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she held her breath and walked forward slowly. Hesitantly her fingers picked up the white square, a knot beginning to form in her stomach as she unfolded it.

_You're right._

She tilted her head confusion blooming as she tried to make sense of the words. "You're...right." she repeated slowly. Her eyes skipped lower to the capital M that was cloistered in the right corner of the paper. There were only a few mute seconds before it hit her.

The white square of paper fluttered to the floor as goose bumps rose on her skin, her hands trembling slightly.

...He had been in her room.

* * *

He pushed spoon against beef as he tried to spear it, he only succeeded in making the tiny slab of meat swim around his plate in drowned gray gravy.

Oh how far he had fallen.

"Don't you _**ever**_ go into my room again."

He looked up to see furious eyes glaring down at him and smiled warmly. "Hey Dwai...wanna have what they call dinner around here?" he asked looking down at his meal in dismay.

"Do you understand me Blondie, do you hear what I'm saying?" she hissed barely managing to keep her voice below a whisper. He looked up somewhat surprised and then smiled at the furious shards of gold and green that wanted to kill him. "Don't you **EVER **come into my room or I will stab you in your sleep." she swore hands trembling, now with rage.

"You'd be doing me a favor." he said wryly and then put a spoonful of peas in his mouth. He put down the utensil in disgust.

The food was utter crap.

"Listen I'm sure you're used to doing whatever you want, getting whatever you want and just generally having life handed to you on a silver spoon on a golden platter but it doesn't work that way here. You don't get whatever you want no matter who gets hurt." her tone was so mocking and hateful. It was a sound he was well used to.

He sighed deeply looking up at her as he felt emotions swirling wildly inside him.

"If you're going to stab me...fine. A lot of people would be very happy for me to die in the worst way possible - ", he stopped for a moment long lashes fluttering before he spoke again.

"I am..."

"A brat hosting his very own pity party." she looked at him in revulsion.

He smirked

* * *

_"I think Isis just wants things to be quiet."_

_"Oh? And in what way do you mean that?"_

_Flames flickered casting wild shadows against stone, blood pooled around his feet, the sound of screaming echoing into the darkness. _

_He shrugged. _

_"Isis...is always content to live her life in whatever sad state its in...so long as it remains quiet."_

_It was judgmental…not the emotion one should feel towards the long-suffering sister who had always tried to save him._

_"Hmmm.", pen tapping against the wood as she weighed his words carefully. "And you?"_

_He smirked. _

_"I...am so much more difficult."_

* * *

He tilted his head back staring at her. "I'm sorry for going in your room...without your permission. I promise I won't do it again." he looked up at her making a puppy-dog expression he hoped would quell her anger.

She growled in disgust pulling back as she saw one of the security guards staring at her from the corner of the room. Slowly she sat down. She hadn't been lying when she said she'd hurt him the next time he tried it. Still, she knew her limits, knew the guards were there to read even the tiniest hint of aggression. There to stop them if they even tried to flip out. She'd be tossed over this table before she could do any damage to Malik if she tried it here. Slowly she began to eat, the anger that had been threatening to boil over now calming.

"I just wanted to let you know you're right."

"Right about what?" she asked annoyed.

He curled his toes in the soft cloth shoes they gave the patients here…all these years later and he could still feel the sensation of warm blood on them. It was a feeling, he supposed, that never went away. Just like the screams from that night had never really gone away. Screams bouncing off the stone walls, echoing into the darkness, screams coming from his sister – animal sounds that came from some dark empty place within her.

He turned looking towards the window that was mere feet from their table. There were bars on it but he could see the sun shining brightly through them. No more shadows, no more candles, no more stone walls.

It wasn't quiet any more.

"I do deserve to be here."


End file.
